


Chase Away the Chill

by RivDeV



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Blind Date, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Coffee, Coffee Shops, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Holidays, Innuendo, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Winter, Yoga Instructor Victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 06:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivDeV/pseuds/RivDeV
Summary: Victor’s been set up on a blind date by Chris. The past few he’s been on have been rough, but with the holidays around the corner, he’s a little desperate for companionship. So he agrees to meet in a lovely little coffee shop with someone who, apparently, has ‘the cutest butt’ (Chris’s exact words). It turns out he’s just dying of thirst.





	Chase Away the Chill

**Author's Note:**

> I promised I’d write this ages ago for a [friend](http://alchemyandpenguinsledding.tumblr.com/tagged/myart) as a collab art-writing piece and I’ve FINALLY done it! Here’s the [gorgeous artwork](http://alchemyandpenguinsledding.tumblr.com/post/181296223932/a-little-gift-for-my-good-friend) to go with it. Seriously. Beautiful. 
> 
> They texted me these exact words, and I couldn’t help but follow: “Victor’s pissed off and annoyed, and then he sees this literal angel and he’s like ‘oh shit time is an illusion and I am the magician’s FOOL’.”
> 
> If you want what’s playing over the speakers at the coffee house as a soundtrack (or just something to get you in a holiday mood), here’s the [playlist](https://youtu.be/Rnx08JFs6nQ).

Victor readjusts his scarf against the biting cold Detroit wind and checks the text message again. His breath mists as it hits the cold air, condensing white on the edge of his scarf next to his mouth. He’s never been to the coffee shop Chris has given him the address of, but it should be nearby. He doesn’t dare pull up maps to check, though, afraid his fingers will get colder than they already are if he has to pull his gloves off to use his screen.

He's pretty sure that it's just around the corner. He flips up the cuff of his Burberry black jacket to check the time on his, admittedly, expensive Rolex. He knows he's trying to show off, but he can't help it. He wants to look his best for this meeting. Ten minutes until one o'clock. Good. He still has a few minutes before the allotted time. He doesn't usually agree to blind dates, but it was at Chris's assurance that he'd enjoy this one.

Anything would be better than the last one he went to. Not only is he still not allowed into that coffee shop on 49th, but the scar on the back of his hand has yet to fade or turn silver - still pink at the edges.

He has to roll his shoulder to keep from smacking into the person coming towards him - the sidewalk is just a little too small, and their coats make a shhhst sound as they bump shoulders. He isn't even offered a 'sorry' as the bundled-up man keeps his head down and trudges forward.

Victor hopes that his date will be more polite. Chris hadn't said much about the person he'd set Victor up with. Just, “a male, shorter than you, dark hair, glasses, and the cutest butt”. Apparently it's not up to Victor to find his partner, but rather, mystery man will approach him. It's why he's wearing the black coat and the herringbone-patterned scarf that 'makes his eyes pop'. Chris had also affixed an enamel pin to his lapel that was the spitting image of Maccachin. Honestly, Chris probably could have told his date to look for someone with silver hair and he'd stand out easily, but he appreciates the clothing and pin as defining features instead.

He smells the cafe before he sees it - warm, earthy coffee with spiced tinges of the winter-themed drinks everyone's so fond of. The shop is bustling, door opening before Victor even reaches it with a gust of warm, dry air. He lunges forward to catch the handle so it doesn't close on the mother with hot coffee in her hands and a toddler clutching her pant leg.

She gives Victor a quick, albeit, grateful smile, but bustles past without any further acknowledgement that Victor just saved her child from either a hot drink to the head or a door smack.

It's not that Russians are any more thankful than Americans (that honour definitely goes to the Canadians - maybe he should have moved there instead), but just on principle he'd prefer a 'thanks'. It's been a long, thankless week at work, and a little gratitude from a stranger wouldn't go amiss.

Just in spite, he glares at the back of the woman’s head and makes sure to hold the door open for the cute Asian man behind him. He gets a small, soft, “thank you,” in return. It makes his mood brighten considerably.

He glances around the shop, hoping that somehow he'll be able to tell who his date might be, but it's just a wash of puffy coats and beanies, the rustling of parka polyester only adds to the susurration of voices.

It's a nice little cafe: a little small and definitely out of his way, but it's not a chain and the warm golden-yellow of the lights and the mismatched furniture make it seem homey. There are fairy lights hanging along the long exposed-brick wall that mark the season without being too overt, which in turn makes him notice the soft, jazzy versions of holiday classics that are being played on low.

He pulls off his gloves, stuffs them in his pocket, and makes sure to scuff his boots along the black bristly front carpet to rid them of lingering snow and wet, even if the hardwood already has muddy puddles of melted snow. He pauses in the entranceway for a moment, waiting to see if anyone approaches him.

When his date doesn’t immediately appear, Victor shuffles over to the register line to order something. He’s early, so he doesn’t mind the brief respite. He’s been telling himself all morning that this date won’t go as poorly as the last one, but he’s also on edge because it’s _possible_ that it could be worse. (Who’s he kidding, it can’t get any worse.)

The cute (from what he can see of him under the large coat, hat, and plush scarf) Asian man he’d let through the door is in line in front of him. He glances over his shoulder at Victor, a chilled flush of pink dusting the tops of cheeks and nose, and he immediately averts his gaze forward when Victor tries to catch his gaze and smile. “Please, go ahead,” the man offers, words muffled because he has his face ducked down into his carmine-red scarf.

Victor nods and gives him a soft ‘thanks’ in return. If he weren’t here for a blind date he’d probably try to chat him up.

The line is slow, but it’s easy to distract himself by looking hungrily through the glass display case to his left at all the decadent, picture-perfect sweets. They all look handmade, but with the precision and care of a master pâtissier. There are chocolate tortes, blackberry flaugnarde, and almond tarts that look like they’d be more at home in a glossy magazine than in a tucked-away hipster coffee shop. They’re draped with chocolate drizzle, curlicues of lemon rind, sparkles of gold leaf, and cheerful sprigs of holly.

Victor isn’t sure if he wants to eat them or just admire them. He briefly thinks that he should get one, if only to add to his Instagram, but he’s still on a strict diet. Sitting behind a desk all day has its fair share of downsides. Besides, his clientele have certain expectations of him, however misguided they may be. So, he settles for marvelling them from afar, drinking in the bits of holiday cheer they impart.

When he finally gets to the register, he barely knows what he wants. The hazelnut latte sounds delicious, and he’s half-tempted by the vegan eggnog, but once he’s close enough to the espresso machine that the tang of hot coffee hits his nose in contrast to the sweet and aromatic cinnamon the barista is dusting on top of a drink, he finds himself ordering a dirty chai.

He stands by the counter to wait for his drink while surveying the cafe patrons: there’s an eclectic mix. There are a few families with younger children who are shovelling desserts in their faces while the parents look frazzled at something on their phones, quiet and secluded couples talking in low voices with secret smiles on their lips, groups of teenage girls huddled together whispering and giggling over drinks piled high with whipped cream and chocolate flakes, some rakish middle-aged businessmen whose raucous laughter carries through the small space, a pair of young lovers dressed in matching plaid holding hands over steaming to-go cups, and what looks to be a book-club dressed in the most horrendous festive sweaters imaginable. Seeing such joy amongst strangers warms Victor’s chest in a way that even the warmest of fires can’t beat on a chilled afternoon.

His drink arrives in a much-too-large mug, foam dangerously close to spilling over onto the saucer and sprinkled with cinnamon and freshly grated nutmeg. It’s that warm, nutty, but spiced, smell that reminds him of holidays back home - it’s the closest he can get to _sbiten_ here, and it has the added bonus of the espresso shot.

He finds an unoccupied table (that’s more accurately described as a re-purposed set of wooden crates) near the back of the shop. He settles into the dark navy armchair next to its floral-patterned partner. The first five minutes pass by easily with the first few sips of chai that have him humming in appreciation. The next five after that have him people-watching again and checking the time on his phone. Fifteen minutes after he’s supposed to have meet his blind date, he texts Chris.

It’s not the first time he’s been stood up, but he’s actually been looking forward to this. The winter holidays are so lonely when he’s so far away from his homeland and family that even the promise of a near-Christmas date had him happily agreeing. He’s getting ridiculously hot in his coat and scarf with the heat in the cafe pumped up to ward off the cold seeping in from the front door and the chilled patrons, but it has the identifying pin, so he doesn’t dare take it off.

He tries to tell himself that his date hadn’t already shown up, seen him, and decided to take off. He knows he’s getting close to thirty and he doesn’t have the same young, striking looks that always used to get him numbers at the bar, even if he goes to great lengths to keep his body in peak shape.

Even worse, he wonders if his hair colour is the defining factor in being stood up. More than once he’s been mistaken for an elderly gentleman from behind (and like, really? What kind of 80-year-old has an ass you could bounce quarters off of?). He reaches up and gently touches the top of his head, frowning. Some days he thinks about colouring it, but most days he quite likes the pearly shine it has. With the stress of work, the loneliness of Christmas time, and the no-show date, he’s feeling pretty self-conscious.

Nearing the twenty-minute mark, Victor all but gives up. It’s a nice cafe, and he’d much prefer to stay inside than brave the winter flurries outside, but he feels a little weird and a little depressed sitting in an armchair waiting for someone who isn’t going to show. He’ll probably be happier sitting at home with Makkachin, hands (and face) buried in her soft fur. His studio apartment is probably a safer place to wallow in self-pity anyway.

He double-texts Chris, letting him know that he’s given up on the blind date and is now headed home. He drains the last of his drink and is almost ready to head out the door when one of the baristas darts over and places a brand new cup of chai down in front of him.

“What? I didn’t-” he starts to tell them.

“Free refills on the house today, sir,” he says with a bright smile and a small giggle.

“Thanks,” he says in a faraway voice as the barista dashes off back behind the counter.

He looks down at the tea, debates with himself for a moment (should he really have more whole milk and sugar?), but there’s no point in wasting a perfectly good cup of chai. Not when the last one tasted so good. He shrugs off his jacket and scarf, drapes them over the back of the chair, then settles back down. There’s no reason to keep the jacket on if he’s not expecting his blind date.

Chris texts back three minutes later. [He’s a shy thing, who fucking knows why with an ass like his, and he’s never been late to anything in his life, I stg. He’s probably working up the courage to talk to you. You’re pretty intimidating, especially when you’re wearing those jeans you like to paint on for dates.] The text is followed by some choice emojis.

Another text comes in just before Victor’s about to type out a response. [I’ll text him and tell him to get his cute butt moving. You can thank me later.]

Victor sends back a few specific emojis of his own. He’s a little pissed off that his blind date would keep him waiting, cute butt be damned. Except, when he hits ‘send’, there’s a soft cough in front of him.

He looks up to find the cute Asian boy from before, except this time sans puffy winter clothes so Victor can finally see his face (and body). The first thing Victor notices are his eyes. They’re walnut-warm with honeyed highlights where the golden-glow of the lights hit them in sparkles, like swirling mocha with cinnamon flecks - he can’t help but drink them in, letting them take away the last of any lingering chill of outside. They’re framed by blue glasses that only contrast and amplify the warmth of his eyes.

The pink flush from cold that was on his cheeks coming in the door is now returning - a blush of embarrassment as Victor looks him over with mouth parted in surprise. His dark hair only accentuates the flawless pale of his skin and the rosy pink dusting across the bridge of his nose and tiny freckles to his ears. He can’t see much of his body - his torso is covered with an oatmeal-coloured jumper that’s a few sizes too large. But the black jean-clad legs sticking out the bottom are long and toned and probably attached to the fantastic ass Chris was raving about. He’s too busy drinking in the figure before him to say anything,

“I, um,” the man stutters, face heating up even more, “you’re Victor, right? I’m Yuuri, your date. I’m sorry I’m late, but uh-” he hides his face bashfully, looking down towards his shoes. “You’re really, kinda, _super_ attractive? And I was trying to talk myself into actually going up to you, but by then I was really late and I didn’t know if I should…” he trails off uncertainly, still not meeting Victor’s eyes.

“Fuck me,” Victor whispers, and when Yuuri immediately looks up at him, he follows it up with, “you can be as late as you want,” which doesn’t help either.

“I, uh, sorry?” Yuuri blinks at him.

“Uh, I mean,” Victor flounders, flushing just like Yuuri is and scrambling to his feet. His knees knock against the coffee table and his chai splashes a little onto the saucer. He ignores it, holding out his hand. He berates himself. A handshake? What is this, a business meeting? He should be leaning in to kiss this gorgeous boy. Why is he like this? He’s usually so much more suave and put-together.

Yuuri gives him a shy smile, and leans forward to grasp Victor’s hand in a quick, but firm shake. And oh, god, his hands are warm and soft, and okay, maybe this was a good idea because Victor certainly likes holding Yuuri’s hand. He could get used to it _very_ easily. But then he doesn’t let go quickly enough and he’s left holding Yuuri’s hand tenderly for a couple moments.

“I’m Victor,” he says finally, reluctantly releasing Yuuri’s hand. “Chris said you had a great ass, but he didn’t say you were so gorgeous.” The words are out of his mouth before he realizes it.

But the smile and intense blush that’s still on Yuuri’s cheeks maybe means that his off-hand compliment is maybe well-received instead of weird. “Um, thank you?” Yuuri chokes out.

“Please, sit,” Victor offers, gesturing to the armchair next to him. He wishes he could have chosen a loveseat so he could press up close to Yuuri.

“Oh, you still want a date?” Yuuri asks, biting his bottom lip, which isn’t fair because now Victor’s staring at his lips. “Even though I almost stood you up?”

“Yes, _please_ ,” Victor begs, swallowing and tearing his gaze back up to Yuuri’s liquid-chocolate eyes. “How could I turn away someone so handsome and humble?”

Yuuri gives him another shy smile and Victor can feel his chest expand, like Yuuri’s stuffing him full of cotton and warm fleece. Oh boy, this could go so wrong for Victor. If he’s already this enamoured, if Yuuri ends up disliking him, he’ll end up moping the entire holiday season. “Okay,” Yuuri nods. “I’ll just - um, let me grab my things.” He nods towards a table in the far corner that has his jacket and a steaming mug.

“Okay,” Victor can hear himself say, although he seems to be having an out-of-body experience. Especially when Yuuri turns around and walks towards the table, his hips swaying under the loose wool (and probably polyester) sweater.

And then, oh god, he bends over the table to reach for this things and Victor’s brain short-circuits. His jumper rides up, giving Victor the most perfect view of a round, plush butt. Chris wasn’t lying when he said Victor would appreciate his ‘assets’. Victor’s knees feel weak. He manages to sit back down in his chair before he drops to the floor or something else equally embarrassing, and he even manages to avoid the coffee table this time.

He can’t help but stare, imagining all the ways he could bend Yuuri over a table just like that. Show him how to really _stretch_ . It’s his profession, after all: stretching. And toning. And muscle work to keep those legs and ass firm. Not like it seems Yuuri needs it - he’s plenty toned and _firm_ . Oh god, he has to stop that line of thought _right now._

It feels like the cafe has gone silent around him - the buzz of conversation fading into the background in favour of the static ringing in Victor’s ears as his entire focus goes to his date. His DATE. Wow. He’ll have to get Chris the best gift for Christmas this year in thanks. He puts a hand to his chest briefly, willing his heart to quit beating so hard against his breastbone, and says a little prayer that somehow he’ll be able to charm Yuuri enough for a second date. And a third. And maybe, possibly, forever.

Watching Yuuri hurry back to him with his coat draped over one arm and mug in the other hand, Victor knows he’s done for. He doesn’t like the oversized sweater with the frayed edges because, boy, does Yuuri even know the injustice he’s doing by not showing off his body? But Victor can’t help but wonder how the sweater would look on the floor of his bedroom, or if Yuuri would look just as adorable in one of his oversized button-up dress shirts and nothing else.

“I just wanted to say sorry, again.” Yuuri says as he places his (what looks like) americano next Victor’s drink, and then drops his coat over the chair arm. “I really did have to psyche myself up, you know?” He seems to have mostly gotten over the blushing, which is a bit of a shame because he looked so damn adorable.

“I’m not intimidating,” Victor tells him. He’s really not, especially not when he’s feeling light-headed from just being in the presence of someone he finds so deeply attractive. He tries to tell himself to slow down - attraction is one thing, compatibility is another. (He also tries to ignore the part of his brain that’s screaming about the soft-spoken, blushing, compunctious part of Yuuri he’s already seen.)

“I don’t know about that,” Yuuri chuckles. “You’re well, you’re really pretty? I mean. I already knew you were, but seeing you here, it just made it really… real,” he flounders. “I got so flustered when you opened the door for me, I couldn’t say anything.”

Victor puts on his best sly grin. “You think I’m pretty?” He wonders if Chris has shown Yuuri a picture of him. Or maybe he’s seen Chris’s Instagram - there are plenty of posts with the two of them.

“Uh, yeah,” Yuuri nods, biting his bottom lip. And isn’t that the single most sinful thing he’s done so far? (Since he bent over the table at least.) Those lips were made for biting. They’re a lewdly cherry-tinted, flushing hollyberry-red where his teeth had pressed. He looks as delicious as those sweets in the dessert case, and this kind of dessert won’t spoil Victor’s diet.

“What praise that is, indeed,” Victor teases, “coming from someone so pretty themselves.”

The way Yuuri’s lips part into an ‘o’ of surprise makes Victor’s spine tingle. The flush on Yuuri’s cheeks comes back so quickly it’s hard to remember it was ever gone. Surely this will become Victor’s new favourite pastime - bringing the colour to Yuuri’s face. Teasing him. If given time, he’s sure he can become a master at it.

Victor watches as Yuuri bites his lip again, face turned down towards his hands where he’s toying nervously with the frayed sleeve of his sweater.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri mutters and Victor barely hears him. “I’m such a mess - I’m just didn’t prepare for compliments.”

“Why not?” Victor asks, reaching out and placing a hand over Yuuri’s so he doesn’t accidentally unravel his sweater by tugging on the threads even more. (Although…..) “Surely you know how gorgeous you are.”

“Stoooooppp,” Yuuri whines, tucking his face even further down into the loose neckline of his jumper. Yet, he relaxes his hand and splays his fingers apart so Victor’s fingers slide between his own in a strange assimilation of hold hands. “I just didn’t think you’d find me attractive,” he admits.

Victor blinks at him, confused. “What. Why not?”

“I took one of your classes,” Yuuri says, glancing up at Victor over the top of his glasses.

“Oh.” Victor breathes. He’s been a pilates and yoga instructor since he was a teenager - started his own studio in his early twenties - and now he’s been so successful it’s turned into a chain. Except, now, he spends most days seated behind a desk, running the business. It’s so rare that he actually teaches a class; only when he’s really anxious and in need of a distraction or they can’t find a replacement instructor on short notice. He’s taught probably three classes in the past two months and doesn’t remember anyone half as gorgeous as Yuuri in them.

“You didn’t notice me in the class, so I was really unsure if you’d want to meet me.” Yuuri explains.

“Oh. I, uh,” Victor tries to think of a suitable excuse, or even try and remember what class Yuuri might have been in to show he did capture his attention, but he comes up blank. He considers lying for a second, but dismisses it quickly - that’s not his style.

Yuuri licks his lips, “I tried to ask you out after class, but you seemed pretty distracted and said ‘no’. I’m just surprised you’re okay with me as a blind date.”

“Wait. What.” Victor stops him.  This beautiful man asked him out and he turned him down? How will he ever recover? He’s going to have to work twice as hard to make sure Yuuri understands how much he wants to date him now - and how ridiculously attractive Victor thinks he is.

“I get it,” Yuuri shrugs before Victor can try to rectify his past blunder. “It was after class and I was all hot and sweaty, not a great look.”

“Trust me, seeing you tired and sweaty is something I _very_ much want,” Victor can’t help but tell him. He desperately wants to see what Yuuri looks like after a good _workout_. He hates that somehow he managed to miss Yuuri in his class.

Yuuri looks up at him, holding his gaze, and Victor suddenly realizes that Yuuri might just possibly find him just as attractive. Yuuri wouldn’t have been the only one hot and sweaty after a class. His heart skips a beat. “It’s okay,” Yuuri says, “It was rude of me to ask you out at work. I’m usually pretty oblivious when I’m working too, at least, that’s what Phichit says.”

“Phichit?” Victor asks faintly because there are a multitude of things he wants to ask (How often do you get hit on at work? Where do you work? Do you forgive me for being an idiot?) but that seems like the easiest one right now.

“My best friend,” Yuuri says quickly, “but just a friend.”

“Well, I’m still sorry I didn’t say ‘yes’ before,” Victor finally manages to tell him. “But trust me, you’ve got my attention now.”

“Good,” Yuuri gives him a sinful smirk and Victor, if possible, falls for him even more. Yuuri squeezes his fingers once, then takes his hand back so he can grab his coffee. Victor does the same, if only to cover up how much he wants to take back Yuuri’s hand and put it other places on his body.

“So, well, you know what I do. Entrepreneur, business owner, former fitness instructor,” Victor says, knowing he can’t just spend the entire date waxing poetic about how gorgeous Yuuri is.

“Oh, I didn’t know you owned the company!” Yuuri interrupts, blinking at him.

“Oh, yes. Four locations now, actually.” Victor says with a touch of pride. He’s been expanding at a pretty rapid pace, and so far there haven’t been many downsides. He’s been careful to not let hubris get the best of him and expand at a rate he can’t keep up with, but everything has been running smoothly.

“Amazing!” Yuuri says, eyes alight with genuine praise.

Victor doesn’t remember the last person he talked to that was actually impressed by his success. The circles he runs in nowadays are mostly business owners too and it seems they’re keener to show up their peers than revel in their successes. Maybe he needs to get out more: find other people to interact with (instead of Linda from the damn cupcake shop who always has to one-up everyone. We get it, Linda, Tom Cruise visited your shop once. That was four years ago.), especially if the outside world has people like Yuuri.

“Then,” Yuuri says with that same sexy smirk, “I don’t think ‘former instructor’ really fits if you’re still able to teach advanced classes. Even I had a hard time keeping up.”

“Oh? The advanced class?” Victor grins back, “So, you’re really talented then. Very flexible.”

“Very,” Yuuri nods seriously, but there’s a shimmer in his eyes that isn’t all just from the hanging fairy lights.

Victor has to take another drink of his chai because he’s suddenly very parched. He wonders how forward he’s allowed to be if he’s only just met Yuuri. Can he ask him to come back to the studio for a ‘private demonstration’? Is that too much? “You’ll have to come take another one of my classes, then. Show me how flexible you are,” he says. That’s a good medium right? Between being interested and not being lewd.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says, pursing his lips and looking away from Victor. “I found myself getting really distracted last time.”

He almost chokes on his next sip of tea. Is he really lucky enough that Yuuri’s flirting back? “I’m sure this time around, you won’t be the only one. Perhaps a one-on-one session, then? To limit distractions.” Victor can’t help but offer.

“Hmmmm, perhaps,” Yuuri watches him over the top of his mug. Victor was wrong - his eyes aren’t mocha-coloured. They’re like a tumbler full of hard whiskey. Deep and intoxicating. Somewhere between burnt sienna and red umber.

He clears his throat, hoping his voice is still working. “I now have four studios.” He decides to change the subject because otherwise he’s going to just ask Yuuri to follow him to the bathrooms in the back. “Started with just the one location, in Wyandotte, actually. Then expanded into downtown Detroit, the location I’m at now. We just opened one in Ann Arbor last year.” He almost feels like he’s touting his success as a way to prove to Yuuri that he’s financially stable - that he could provide a good home life.

“I didn’t realize there were so many,” Yuuri smiles at him. “I’ve only been to the downtown one.”

“I mean,” Victor starts, “it’s just the four for now. But my Instagram and YouTube channel have been doing well, so I’m trying to work with an app developer to get my programs to a wider audience.”

“I’d definitely watch them,” Yuuri tells him. “I can’t imagine who wouldn’t want to watch you do pilates at all hours of the day.”

Victor raises an eyebrow at that.

“Oh! I, uh, I mean-” Yuuri stutters, flushing again, “just, you know, you’re very good at what you do. I’m sure other people would appreciate your lessons.”

“Thank you,” Victor purrs a little, warmth blooming in his chest. He still understood the underlying meaning in what Yuuri said.

He’s about to ask Yuuri about his own profession because he feels like he’s been rambling about himself for too long - he’d much rather learn more about the beauty in front of him - when he catches a glance of the barista from before watching them both intently from behind the counter. He’s not unused to people staring at him, so he normally wouldn’t mind, but the ‘free refill’ was a little weird. And the stare the man is giving them right now is quite intense.

Yuuri follows his gaze, and when he notices the petite man’s conspicuous attention he makes a huffing sound. “Oh my god, really?” Victor can hear him say under his breath.

“Someone you know?” Victor asks, looking between them.

The man makes gestures between him and Yuuri and Victor watches as Yuuri shakes his head, giving him ‘shooing’ gestures and then burying his face in his hands when the barista doesn’t seem to take the hint and comes sauntering over.

“Hi,” the man says, grinning and perching on the armrest of Yuuri’s chair.

Victor can’t help but narrow his eyes at him. There’s no way he’s going to let someone come in and steal Yuuri away, particularly on their first date.

“How’s the chai? Good? I just guessed at the sugar amount. You seem like a guy who likes a little more spice than sugar,” he says, winking at Victor. He has the bright smell of coffee beans lingering on him.

“Oh my god, do you have to do that, Phichit?” Yuuri groans.

Phichit. Oh. That was the name of Yuuri’s friend. So… not a rival, then?

“What?” Phichit gives Yuuri a little nudge with his elbow. “You’re the one who came into work for a date. You should have expected me to keep tabs.”

“I suggested here because it’s safe and comfortable for me! Not so you could interrupt us!” Yuuri hisses at him, using the flat of his palms on Phichit’s leg, trying to push him off the armrest. He’s not budging, though. Victor just sits back and watches, a little confused and a little interested.

“Oh my god, Yuuri, he’s even prettier in person,” Phichit gushes, looking Victor over.

“You’ve seen pictures of me?” Victor has to ask.

“Yeah, of course. Yuuri’s shown me your Instagram.” Phichit says nodding, he’s still smiling widely.

“Really? Phichit! Don’t tell him that!” Yuuri whines looking quite flustered. “I’m not a cyber stalker, I swear!” He says, turning to Victor.

“He follows you on Instagram, you know that, right?” Phichit asks. “I told him it might be weird to have a date with your thirst follow, but here he is.”

“Really now?” Victor looks over at Yuuri who’s got his face buried in his hands again. “I feel like I’m at a disadvantage, Yuuri, you seem to have had ages to come to terms with your crush, and here I am, having to deal with it all for the first time. It’s really overwhelming.”

“Ooooooo,” Phichit makes a cooing sound. “I told you he’d like you, Yuuri. See, nothing to worry about! You’re hot stuff. Just make sure to lock it down.”

“Please stop,” Yuuri begs from between his fingers.

“Okay, okay,” Phichit laughs, bumping leg against Yuuri’s bicep. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. Did you want another drink?”

“No. Because it’s only an excuse for you to come over again,” Yuuri lifts his head enough to glare at Phichit.

Phichit just laughs it off. “Fine, I’ll just go back behind the counter and watch you from afar. Just gimme a wave if you or the man of your dreams want something else.” He hops off the chair with grace, pets Yuuri’s hair once, and gives Victor a salacious wink before sauntering off back to the register.

“If you wanna end the date now, I totally understand,” Yuuri mumbles to Victor in the silence Phichit leaves behind.

Victor shakes his head, even though Yuuri doesn’t seem to be looking at him, but at his shoes instead. He purposely manhandles his armchair to face more directly at Yuuri. “No. Not at all. How could I leave now when I know you’ve been lusting after me.”

“You don’t mind?” Yuuri asks, looking up at him, pink still dusting his cheekbones.

“I’ll admit, not the most conventional ‘blind’ date” Victor says, tapping his lip with his finger, “but I don’t mind. It’s flattering, really.”

“Really?” Yuuri looks hopeful. And still so adorable. Is it possible to find him even cuter now that Victor knows Yuuri’s followed him on Instagram? (And possibly might be the ‘man of his dreams’?!)

“Your friend is just making sure you’re alright. It’s nice to know you have someone who cares about you,” Victor admits. He doesn’t know if he has anyone quite like that in his life. Chris, maybe. But Chris would definitely interrupt specifically to make Victor embarrassed, not check in on him.

“Yeah, he’s… he’s something,” Yuuri agrees.

“So, you work here?” Victor has to ask. Phichit’s interruption gave him a few new pieces of information about Yuuri, so he’s going to use it.

“Oh. Yes. I’m co-owner. With Phichit,” Yuuri says casually.

“Wow,” Victor can’t stop himself from saying. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. This cozy place, with the picture-perfect desserts and terrific chai, is Yuuri’s? And here Victor is, gushing about his own business. No wonder Chris wanted to set them up - they certainly have many things in common.

“It’s not that impressive,” Yuuri says, looking around the shop. Victor has to disagree. It looks like a well-established shop with a steady stream of clientele. “We’ve been thinking about expanding, but both Phichit and I are happy with just this place for now. With the both of us it means we actually get time off, and we still have full control over everything. We’re happy like this,” he says fondly. “Oh! Not that expanding is bad!” He says quickly, looking over at Victor.

Victor gives a small chuckle. “It’s fine, Yuuri. I understand. Having a larger company does leave me time for little else.”

“Even dates?” Yuuri asks tentatively.

“Sometimes, yes,” Victor nods. He’s found it difficult to keep up relationships when he has to devote so much time to work. But he’s been working towards a healthier work-life balance. In fact, he promoted Mila to store manager of the Ann Arbor location a few months ago and she’s been working out spectacularly. At least, it’s kept a bunch of paperwork off his desk. “But that’s not to say that I’m unavailable,” he makes sure to say.

“Good,” Yuuri nods. “That’s, ah, really good. That you’re, you know, available.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t interested,” he shuffles his feet so his knee is pressed against Yuuri’s knee, “no matter how much Chris begged.”

Victor can see the way Yuuri swallows as he looks down at their legs touching. Victor can feel the warmth radiating from him. How perfect - someone that could keep him warm on cold nights. “Chris can be very convincing, though,” Yuuri says.

“Tell me about it,” Victor laughs. “He’s pushed me to do all sorts of things I usually wouldn’t. Once, he took me out drinking and we ended up driving to Buffalo. Through Canada.”

“That’s not too weird. It’s technically the shorter route, isn’t it? Definitely not as bad as the time we went out for dinner and I woke up in the morning with a pet lobster.”

“A what?” Victor laughs.

Yuuri shrugs. “A lobster. Apparently he stole it from one of the restaurant tanks. I donated it to the aquarium. Didn’t think he’d have a good life living around my apartment.”

“Or back in the restaurant tank,” Victor agrees. “So, wait. How do you know Chris, then?” he has to ask. If Yuuri and Chris are friends, Victor’s surprised they’ve never met before, notably at Chris’s famous parties. He wonders if Yuuri’s coming to the New Year’s bash Chris already has planned. Starting the new year with someone like Yuuri at his side (and to kiss at midnight) sounds like a beautiful dream.

“Pole dancing,” Yuuri says frankly. “He’s the one who told me about your studio, actually.”

Once again, the sounds of the coffee house dissolve into the background as Victor all but melts into his seat. Pole dancing? This literal angel sitting in front of him has another, sexier side to him? How is he still single? “Pole dancing?” Victor asks faintly.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, lightly scratching his neck, “I was teaching a month-long session as a favour to an old college friend. Chris was in the class. He’s pretty good, actually.”

Victor knows Chris has been taking pole classes in addition to the yoga and pilates at his place (for his ‘lover’s benefit’, apparently). But he said nothing about Victor’s date being an instructor. How could he keep this from him? ‘You have lots in common’ is what Chris had said. What an understatement.

How does Victor ask for an exhibition, or a private showing? Maybe he can ask for a lesson himself. It relates to his profession, right?

“I don’t do it much anymore,” Yuuri says into Victor’s stunned (and slightly aroused) silence. “I just did it back in college as a way to keep in shape and to make some extra cash.”

“ _Bozhe moi_ ,” Victor breathes. He doesn’t trust himself to not say something ridiculous like ‘lemme smack that ass’ if he speaks English. “Oh my god.” Now he can’t help but think about Yuuri wrapped around a pole. That tight ass makes a lot of sense now. Does he wear heels? He must. Crap. Definitely not the kind of thoughts Victor should be having in a public space.

“It’s not a problem, is it?” Yuuri looks a little concerned, probably because Victor can’t get out any words.

He manages to find his voice, “no. No, not at all.” He shakes his head to make it very clear. “It’s… the opposite of a problem. Really.”

“Oh. Good.” Yuuri smiles at him.

“I mean, it might become a problem? For me. Right now. If I keep thinking about it,” Victor says, his brain-to-mouth filter not working. “Because the image of you, with heels, and a pole between your thighs-” he cuts himself off with a groan because he definitely did not mean for that to sound as provocative as it did, but the groan only makes it worse.

But instead of flushing like he has before, Yuuri leans forward in his seat, his eyes low, glancing towards Victor’s lap, then back up at his face. “Oh?” He practically purrs. “You’d like to see how I work a pole?”

“Hhhhnnnn,” Victor says eloquently.

“I actually quite like polework. Keeps me fit. Makes me feel strong and powerful. And sexy.” Yuuri pauses to assess Victor’s reaction.

Victor has so many things he wants to say. Is ‘ _your legs look strong enough to crush my head and that’s ridiculously hot_ ’ taking it too far? ‘ _What type of pole do you like to work on? Brass or Stainless? Spinning? Freestanding? Mine?_ ’ is also probably too forward. But Yuuri’s the one who started it, so maybe a little bit on innuendo is acceptable. “You _are_ very sexy,” he puts out there. “You probably look right at home on a pole.”

Yuuri grins at him. “Oh. I am. Haven’t had a complaint about my form for years.”

“Lots of practice?” Victor asks, wondering if Yuuri will get the subtle double-edged inflection he puts on the words.

“Mnnn,” Yuuri hums. “I usually just practice solo,” he says, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “Haven’t done a private showing for a while.”

“Oh.” Victor nods. “That’s, ah. Too bad. I’m sure you’re a vision. Shame to not share your talents.”

Yuuri shrugs. “I’m busy here, mostly. Not a lot of time for…. Extracurriculars.”

“Same as me, then,” Victor replies, eyes locked with Yuuri’s. “I don’t teach much anymore, but I still make sure to stretch every day.”

It’s silent and tense between them, but the tension is all heat. This certainly isn’t the way Victor’s dates usually go. They’re usually more awkward than heated. More time-consuming than beneficial. But with Yuuri - he doesn’t know what it is. There’s just something there, something in this man that he hasn’t seen in anyone else. Something that’s drawing him in.

Maybe it’s the holiday season that’s making him desperate for close company, but he doesn’t think that’s it - he’s gotten through more depressive years than this. Maybe it’s the weather. The short days and long night coupled with the frigid temperatures makes him want someone to curl up with in bed. But he’s been on dates during the winter months before. Or perhaps it’s his insecurities that are slowly creeping up on him - his silver hair, the fact that ‘30’ is looming so close, the fact he spends more days in the office than on a mat now. But still, he’s felt self-conscious before, but he’s never felt the need to find someone to settle down with.

But Yuuri, in the half hour he’s known him, has him more intrigued than he’s ever been: is making him feel more alive than he’s felt for years. It feels like he’s being revivified, starting from where their knees are pressed together and spreading outwards from there.

Outside the clouds are overcast, and coupled with the diffuse winter sun and the languidly falling light fluffy snow, it casts the whole city in a monochromatic scheme of white and grey. But there’s Yuuri sitting across from him with honeyed eyes and a pink flush on his cheeks. And suddenly he can see the holiday lights in the window across the way and the gaudy decorations on the street lamp posts and the twinkle of the fairy lights reflected in Yuuri’s eyes.

He’s always thought ‘love at first sight’ was a romantic notion put into place by Hollywood and Hallmark. But perhaps it isn’t as artificial as he thought. He’s certainly feeling like Yuuri’s the epitome of the phrase.

“I, uh, gosh,” Yuuri says, interrupting their moment. “It’s a little hot in here, isn’t it?” He tugs at the collar of his sweater.

“Please,” Victor says, looking Yuuri over fondly, “just take the sweater off. I’m already undressing you with my eyes.”

Yuuri snorts in laughter. “I do pole dancing, Victor. Not stripping.”

“Still,” Victor smiles, “that sweater really is too unflattering for you.”

“I, uh, yeah, I suppose. Phichit said something similar, actually,” Yuuri says, fiddling with the frayed sleeves. “I don’t care much about fashion, so I just wear what’s comfortable.”

“Trust me, I could dress you up so pretty if you’d let me. I’m sure you’d look good in almost anything.”

Yuuri’s smile brightens more, if that’s even possible. “Is this where you throw in a line about how I’d look good in your clothes? Or nothing at all?” He jokes.

Victor laughs, “I wasn’t going to say that, but now that you mention it…” he leans forward and places a hand over Yuuri’s knee cautiously.

Yuuri looks at him tenderly. “Well… I’ve been told I do look good naked, so, I’ll take the compliment.”

And, oh, does Victor want to know what Yuuri looks like splayed out, naked, on his sheets. He’d love to undress him piece by piece. Revel in each bit of skin he reveals.

“I, uh, I know it’s not a great sweater,” he says, reaching for the hem and tugging it up and off his head, his plain white t-shirt underneath sticking to the fuzzy fabric for a moment and bearing the most impossibly salivating strip of skin at his hips. “I didn’t realize Viccchan had chewed on it until I was halfway here. Poodles, you know!” He places the sweater over the side of the chair.

Victor ignores the fluttering in his chest at the tantalizing bits of skin and figure Yuuri’s now showing (and the smooth contours of his bare arms) in favour of latching onto his favourite topic - poodles.

“Poodles!” He says quickly and with excitement. “You have a poodle? I do too! Here, let me-” he doesn’t even think about how he has to remove his hand from Yuuri to reach for his phone. He has an album specifically of Makkachin and he’s not going to miss the opportunity to show off his beloved dog.

And oh god, if Yuuri also loves dogs (poodles even more specifically), he’s going to be lost.

“Oh goodness, they’re adorable!” Yuuri coos as Victor hands over his phone full of (around 5000) photos of Makka. “Chris wasn’t kidding when he said I wouldn’t have trouble connecting with you,” Yuuri mutters, flipping through picture after pictures.

Victor’s smitten. He knows he is. This beautiful boy is happily looking at his pictures. A lot of them. He doesn’t even have to be that annoying dog-parent that wants to show off every cute picture they’ve ever taken because Yuuri’s looking at them all with a warm, happy expression.

“I think I’ll have to give Chris a proper thank you,” Victor agrees. Perhaps a bottle of champagne. “Her name’s Makkachin, she’s a little old, but she’s still got lots of spunk. Caught her trying to get into the trash the other night. She’s usually so well-behaved, but sometimes…”

“I know,” Yuuri laughs, putting Victor’s phone on his knee for the few seconds it takes to retrieve his own and pull up an album for Victor to look at. “Vicchan is a sweetheart, but he also gets into trouble sometimes.” He hands his phone over to Victor and picks Victor’s back up to swipe through more photos.

The dog on Yuuri’s phone is the smallest, cutest poodle he’s seen. The breed fits Yuuri’s soft personality so well. And he can immediately see Vicchan beside Makka in the dog park, running around while he and Yuuri have a dog-walk-date. For once, he feels like it would be so simple to date. Matching interests. Mutual understanding. Heated looks. Yes, Chris deserves a whole case of champagne.

“Do you get to bring her into work?” Yuuri asks. And Victor can’t help but tell Yuuri all about Makka doing Yoga with him in the studio (with pictures as evidence too). Even though they’re both happy to share poodle stories, the conversation easily progresses from there.

It’s easy to talk to Yuuri, even while he’s bold sometimes and shy others. He seems happy to let Victor ramble about his own interests and life, which is a good thing because Victor likes to talk. Victor can’t explain it, exactly, but there’s this connection between them. A comfortable, warm, feeling. Almost as if he and Yuuri have simultaneously known each other for years while also delighting in learning new things about each other.

It’s the simple ease of two people fitting together seamlessly. Two puzzle pieces slotting together. The satisfaction of that simple snap of the perfect fit - of finally finding the person that’s supposed to have been next to you since the beginning. Conversation is easy and the chemistry between them is sizzling.

He thinks he does a good job of not inserting too many flirtations into every sentence, but he also wants Yuuri to be overwhelmingly aware of how much he wants him. He’s pretty sure Yuuri likes him just as much. It’s a heady, wonderful, holiday-warmth-filled feeling. Christmas has come early for Victor. And what a gift Yuuri is.

It’s only a couple hours later, when their drinks have gone cold and Victor _really_ needs to pee, does the conversation finally peter off. There’s so much to still be said between them, but the sun is beginning to fade and Victor should really get home to feed Makkachin. He’s loathe to leave Yuuri.

“Oh, your chai’s gone cold. Do you want another one to go?” Yuuri offers.

“No, I’m okay. I’ve had too much sugar and caffeine. I’ll be awake past midnight if I have anymore.” Victor shakes his head.

“I’m immune to caffeine by now,” Yuuri grins.

“I’ll be right back,” Victor says, hoping that Yuuri won’t just leave while he’s relieving himself.

Even the few short minutes of reprieve he gets from Yuuri’s glowing aura doesn’t dull his intense attraction. He’s hit with the severity of it as soon he catches another glimpse of Yuuri, sitting in the arm chair, waiting for him.

He’s cleaned up their table while Victor’s been in the bathroom, and his sweater is back on. He doesn’t want their date to end, but he knows it has to at some point. He’ll just need to make sure he leaves with the next date firmly set. Anything less than a second date is unforgivable.

“I suppose I should get going,” he hates to say, picking up his jacket.

“I should too, I guess. Can you wait a moment? I just want to say goodbye to Phichit.”

Victor nods, watching as Yuuri saunters over to the counter to talk in low tones with his friend. Judging by the furious blush Yuuri has and the cheeky grin Phichit’s giving both of them, he’s pretty sure he can guess what the conversation might be about.

They’re both quiet as they bundle up in their winter wares, the coats already feeling hot in the warmth of the cafe. He leans over to fix Yuuri’s scarf for him and the smile he gets in return makes him want to use the scarf to drag Yuuri in for a kiss.

Instead, he gestures towards the door, and they both brace themselves for the frigid cold. He's used to cold Russian winters, but it doesn't make the biting wind sting any less. Somehow, though, standing outside Yuuri’s cafe with him doesn’t feel as gelid as when he first arrived.

The cold air bites at his lungs and leaves him breathless. Or maybe that’s Yuuri.

“I, uh, had a great time,” Yuuri says softly. The little flakes of snow that are drifting lazily down catch in Yuuri’s fringe and eyelashes. It’s like Victor’s seeing him in soft focus - a romantic scene at the end of a movie. But he’s also so cognizant of all the small details of Yuuri’s face. The length of his eyelashes that are gilded with snow. The shape of his eyebrows. The curve of his cupid’s bow. The short distance between them. The crunch of fresh snow under his boots as he steps even closer.

“So did I,” Victor breathes. “The best afternoon I’ve had in months. Yuuri, you’re…” he can’t find the word that will describe the ineffable person in front of him. “Can I kiss you?” He asks instead.

“Yes. Please,” Yuuri responds in exactly the way Victor’s been dreaming since he first introduced himself.

The space between them is bridged easily. His hand comes up to cup Yuuri’s heated cheek, guiding them together. Yuuri grips his scarf and pulls him in.

His lips are warm and soft - a startling contrast to the bitter air. He never wants to leave this moment. These simple few seconds where they’re in their own little cocoon of warmth. Their own, personal, moment.

Victor doesn’t think he’s ever had such a kiss that’s held so much promise of ‘more’. The plush of Yuuri’s lips under his own is so tempting he can’t help but press closer - wishing they’d done this inside the shop instead so there weren’t so many layers between them.

Yuuri responds in kind - sliding his lips against Victor’s, sultry and bewitching. There’s a slight flicker of tongue before Yuuri pulls back, eyes half-lidded and dangerously sensual. He wets his bottom lip with a quick dash of his pink tongue.

Victor can only pull him forward again into another kiss, this one deeper than the last. This time there’s teeth and tongue and spit and heat and it’s _still_ not enough. Victor grabs at Yuuri’s hip, dragging him even closer so they can be pressed up against each other.

Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind - kissing him back just as forcefully. Their lips drag against each other in the most salacious of ways. Yuuri tastes like coffee and chocolate and Victor’s addicted. Yuuri is like his cafe personified: warm, inviting, and simply delicious.

He drinks him in, tilting his head slightly so their lips slot together in the same easy way their conversation had flowed. Except this time there are no words, but finally their physical attraction being given freedom. A sweep of the tongue. A pull of lips. A hard press.

He has half-awareness that they’re probably still in view of the cafe window and the patrons (and probably, definitely, Phichit) might be watching them, so it’s with reluctance he pulls back.

He almost ignores their exhibitionism and goes back for a third kiss when he sees the devastated, lascivious look Yuuri’s giving him.

“I suppose it might be weird,” Victor says, voice low and dark, “if I ask you back to my place for coffee. Seeing as you own a coffee shop. And can make better coffee yourself. Except, maybe, well, this isn’t the kind of coffee you can have in your shop. I mean. I make it different. Because it’s me.”

He hopes he hasn’t come across as desperate as he feels. He probably didn’t do a good job. Yuuri has to know how beguiling he is. Victor doesn’t stand a chance. He doesn’t step away from Yuuri, but instead keeps clutching at his hip, hoping to stop him from going anywhere that isn’t the same direction as him.

“I could make coffee for you, at your place,” Yuuri says and Victor almost sags in relief. “But,” he says softly, “Am I just being too presumptuous, or is this not about coffee at all?”

“Not at all,” Victor confirms. “But before I take you home with me, I have to know; you’ll still want more after this, right? Because if inviting you back to my place means I don’t get a second date, then I’ll have to decline.”

“No, no,” Yuuri shakes his head, his hair swaying and dropping the contrasting white snow. “A second date is good. Required. Expected. And a third date too, probably. If I’m not being too forward.”

“Never. If you want a third date, I’ll ask for a fourth. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take, and then ask for more. As long as you’re okay with that-”

“More than,” Yuuri tells him sincerely, hand reaching up to trace the curve of Victor’s jaw. He turns so he can kiss Yuuri’s palm.

“Then let’s get out of the cold,” he offers. The warmth in his heart rekindled by Yuuri’s earnest and genuine smile. Perhaps he’s found someone that could chase away the chill.

 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Sbiten_ \- a hot winter-time Russian spiced drink made with honey, spices, and jam (or sometimes wine). The spices used are usually: cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg. (They also drink a type of Russian Chai, so I figured even a masala chai would remind Victor of home.)
> 
> _Bozhe moi_ \- oh my god. (Russian)
> 
> Gotta link the [beautiful artwork](http://alchemyandpenguinsledding.tumblr.com/post/181296223932/a-little-gift-for-my-good-friend) again for you.
> 
> This ended up being much longer than I thought it would. But I never seem to do anything by halves. I wish I could have written their whole conversation, but I needed to finish before Christmas. 
> 
> I really hoped you enjoyed this little piece of warmth. I want to wish you all a wonderful holiday season!!!


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